<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Fill My Heart with Each Caress by cassiopeiasara</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809448">Fill My Heart with Each Caress</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeiasara/pseuds/cassiopeiasara'>cassiopeiasara</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Bletchley Circle, The Bletchley Circle: San Francisco (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Post San Francisco finale, small gestures</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:00:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeiasara/pseuds/cassiopeiasara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was a caress, an almost forgettable touch really. Millie had asked if she wanted tea as Jean plopped down on the couch after they arrived home from drinks with Iris and Hailey. Millie had squeezed Jean’s shoulder when she asked which wasn’t at all unusual. Jean replied in the affirmative and it was the moment Millie handed her the cup that changed everything. </i>
</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Millie can't stop touching Jean's hand and Jean decides to investigate why.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Camilla Harcourt/Jean McBrian, Millie Harcourt/Jean McBrian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fill My Heart with Each Caress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingToads/gifts">FlamingToads</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: I hope you find this enjoyable. I have a longer post San Francisco multichap plan but Toad sent me an idea on tumblr and this fic was born. Shoutout to rikubean for giving it a look over and Toad not only for the idea but enabling me with promises of art. Title from Ray Lamontange's "Can I Stay" which is great to listen to while you read.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Of all the times Jean imagined naming her feelings for Millie, she never accounted for the catalyst to be something small. After all, many of their circumstances in the last few years had spoken to quite dramatic things like murder, kidnapping, selling illegal goods, and pushing drugs but in the end it didn’t involve a life threatening situation to sharpen her senses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a caress, an almost forgettable touch really. Millie had asked if she wanted tea as Jean plopped down on the couch after they arrived home from drinks with Iris and Hailey. Millie had squeezed Jean’s shoulder when she asked which wasn’t at all unusual. Jean replied in the affirmative and it was the moment Millie handed her the cup that changed everything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean had reached and Millie’s fingers grazed her own but Millie paused, an almost squeeze to Jean’s index finger and Jean nearly dropped her cup in surprise. She blamed it on the late hour and the haze it often carried but something had shifted and she couldn’t stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>noticing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie began to do it all the time. Mornings when she passed Jean on the way to the loo to get ready, she’d brush against Jean’s hand and run her thumb along Jean’s index finger before she squeezed it. When they sat next to one another while Cadence rehearsed for an upcoming recital, Millie’s index finger lingered on her knuckles before she smiled and lifted her hand to clap so enthusiastically, Jean thought Cadence might burst from glee. She did it in the evenings Jean popped into the diner to walk her home. It had become apparent to Bill in the last couple of months that there truly was no hope so Jean offered to step in on particularly long nights. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie would wipe the counters and close the tills then drag two fingers along the side of Jean’s hand, pulling her from whatever newspaper or book she’d been reading and whisper, “let’s go home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a month or so of convincing herself she wasn’t simply imagining things, Jean braved saying something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cleared her throat one evening as Millie had taken to holding two of her fingers while they read together on the couch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Millie,” she started slowly. When Millie only offered a hum and squeezed Jean’s fingers, Jean pulled away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie looked up then. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean adjusted her spectacles and went through several openers in her head.“I think we need to talk about something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie sat up and laid her book on the coffee table before she leaned forward and took Jean’s hand in both of hers. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean’s heart accelerated at Millie’s proximity and her touch. She bit her lip and raised the hand currently lodged between Millie’s. “This.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie furrowed her brow as she glanced to their hands. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean took a deep breath and extracted her hand from Millie’s as she leaned back against the couch. Fear joined the worry on Millie’s face. “You seem to be very fond lately of,” she sighed and shook her head, “holding my hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie tilted her head, unable to meet Jean’s gaze. “Am I then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean quirked an eyebrow. “Considering It’s my hand, I’m fairly confident I’d notice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie placed her hands in her lap, fidgeting, and lowered her head as if she’d been reprimanded. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean tilted her head and hoped her tone was soft. “Is there a reason?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie placed an arm on the back of the sofa and leaned her head against her hand. “Yes,” she said simply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean quirked an eyebrow. “Care to share it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie ran a hand over her face and sighed. “Not particularly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean sighed as well. “There’s no use in secrets between us, Millie. I’d just like to know why you--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I want you near,” interrupted Millie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean’s eyes widened. “W-What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie shook her head and clasped her hands together again. “I feel a fool for not realizing it until I almost lost you but,” she pulled her bottom lip in through her teeth then released it slowly, “Jean, you’re my best friend and I am glad of that but I find I want…” she trailed off and stood up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean watched as she crossed to the mantle and stared at the fireplace. “What is it, Millie?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long buried hope that sprung forth in Jean’s chest but she was too afraid to let it grow without more proof. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie let out a small laugh that was more sigh than humor. “It’s funny you know, I, I always said I never wanted a kitchen and a husband because I thought the monotony would kill me. I like new adventures and clutter and noise,” she paused and dropped her hand from the mantle. It dangled at her side before she tapped her fingers on her leg.  “I find it thrilling to discover what new place to go next but here,” she looked up and gestured around their flat. “Here, I’ve never felt more peace and it’s down to you, I think.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fancy living with an old spinster more than you thought?” Jean looked up into Millie’s face and was struck by the adoration and worry she saw there. It couldn’t possibly mean...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie nodded and smiled. “Even though she finds my housekeeping skills abhorrent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean quirked an eyebrow. “You could wash a dish now and again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie let out a small laugh and crossed her arms. “I will endeavor to try.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean scoffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie gave her a soft look and Jean felt that hope in her chest rise once more. “I’d expect nothing less.” She gazed at Jean another moment before her eyes wandered to somewhere over Jean’s shoulder. “I wanted to find a way to put this into words but when I try, I find I can’t quite get there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean pulled her hands into her lap and leaned forward. “Perhaps try it muddled first and I’ll work it out from there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Milie shook her head. “I think you’re already close to figuring it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean sighed. “But I’d hate to get it wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie took a step toward her and finally met Jean’s gaze. “I’m fond of holding your hand because I’m,” she took a deep breath and dropped her arms, “I’m fond of you, Jean. Well, more than fond, I, well, I…” she rolled her eyes and turned around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fond of you too, Millie,” started Jean, “goodness, I wouldn’t have followed you here if I wasn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie took a deep breath. “But do you think that fondness could grow? Because it has with me and I--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grown into what exactly?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Millie gave her a hesitant smile.  “Love.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean discarded her spectacles with a steadiness she couldn’t believe and slowly stood up to join Millie. She reached forward and took one of Millie’s hands in hers, repeating every small gesture Millie had given her in the past month. She added something new when she brought Millie’s knuckles to her lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jean smiled as Millie let out a small gasp. “I’d say I know it can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were tears in the corners of Millie’s eyes as she brought her free hand up to Jean’s cheek. Jean leaned into her touch and raised her lips slightly. Millie leaned in and their kiss was as soft and thrilling as Jean had hoped it would be. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>